Mike in the Wild

Few birds have made as many headlines in the past couple decades as the northern spotted owl.  Pitting environmentalists against loggers, it seems to symbolize the struggle between opposing sides on how best to utilize our public lands.  The owl depends on old growth forests for its  habitat, usually the same areas that are of interest to both the lumber industry for harvesting and nature lovers for preservation.    Even with protection under the Endangered Species Act and political decisions aimed at enforcing it, the species is in decline, with only a few thousand pairs remaining in the Pacific Northwest.  But outside of that geographic area, two other subspecies seem to be fairing much better.  The California spotted owl is thriving in the Golden State while the Mexican spotted owl lives in an extensive range, albeit disjointed, of mountain forests from the middle Rocky Mountains south into Central Mexico.  I was in the heart of this latter owl's home turf when I had my first

It's not everyday that I encounter a new species of hummingbird for the very first time.  Of course in my limited time birding it's not an unreasonable expectation as there are over three hundred known species.  But only a single one, the ruby-throated, visits most areas of the United States and Canada.  In large swathes of the West, almost ten  more are found depending on the season.  Lucky for us  in the Southwest, especially Arizona,  as many as twenty different species spend at least some time in the state as year-round, migratory or breeding residents.  So I had high expectations when I made my first visit to Patagonia near the Mexican border last weekend.  I made the almost three hour drive from my home in Phoenix even though it was long past the summer breeding season and just past fall migration.  My first stop there was at the Paton Center for Hummingbirds - with such a descriptive name I was bound to find some new specimens in the family. The Center is managed by

Serious birders visiting Tucson know to check out Sweetwater Wetlands, a wastewater project that has recreated a wildlife habitat in the middle of Arizona's second largest city.  Waterfowl like herons and ducks are attracted to its ponds while a multitude of songbirds, raptors and owls live off the native flora.  Migratory birds are also regularly seen in this desert and urban oasis.   So it was a disappointment when I arrived on a cloudy and blustery late autumn afternoon and only gallinules and wigeons were present on the duckweed-filled ponds.  The approaching storm didn't concern me, but apparently birds felt otherwise.   Nevertheless it was my lucky day because a feline resident was not intimidated by the chance of rain either.   And like me, this bobcat was on the hunt.   Of course his prey was for a meal and not a photographic collection.  It seemed to be familiar with the terrain, following the same paths as birders and walkers, leaving its scent on the odd rock or

There are over thirty different kinds of tarantulas in Arizona, and along with rattlesnakes and scorpions, they instill more fear during a close encounter than any other local critter.  In the deserts of the Southwest, late summer is mating season, so it's not difficult to find males leaving their burrows in pursuit of females.  Unfortunately, most of us find them flattened victims of busy human traffic on the roads and sidewalks they have to cross en route to their love nests.   A short distance from the deserts, Prescott has a similar tarantula season, and I was lucky to find an individual slowly crossing a neighborhood street.  I diverted an oncoming car, but I was afraid to approach the three-inch long arachnid too closely.  But it turns out that the venomous spider's bite is sometimes painful but is not fatal to humans.  While he might look scary to most of us, our fast vehicles and heavy feet are far deadlier.

The large number of cardinals that migrate through or into Arizona, not to mention the two colorful species of the family that live here year-round, were an early source of inspiration and excitement when I caught the birding bug a couple of years ago.   The scarlet-colored northern cardinal ranges over a wide swath of the state and its drabber cousin, the pyrrhuloxia, lives in the lower third, with both residing here year-round.  But most other members of the cardinalidae family that we might see are migrants, coming seasonally into the state for summer breeding or flying  through en route to their seasonal homes north or south.  It was this latter case when a lazuli bunting pair showed up briefly in my Prescott yard last spring.   What was the chance that during this year's fall migration the same bird might show up in my yard during its trip homeward?  Slim to none was my first thought, and to date I've not had to question that calculation.  However, thanks to very

Like many people, at first glance I often confuse a unique but wide-ranging moth with a hummingbird.  Ornamental flowers are an irresistible source of nectar for both winged creatures and both buzz and hover as they feed.   But the similarities might end there. The white-lined sphinx is in the class of animals separate from birds known as insects, and in an order with butterflies and moths called lepidoptera.  But because of its unique acrobatics it's known familiarly as the hummingbird moth.  Another striking difference between the sphinx and the hummingbird is that this particular species seems to readily tolerate a photographer while it dines on the sweet bounty of a Prescott, Arizona flower garden.